


I'm Falling For You

by Winterbaby89



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Christmas smuff, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Holidays, Non-Graphic Violence, post college AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-11 12:04:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12934890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterbaby89/pseuds/Winterbaby89
Summary: All it takes is one text to make Killian’s world stop... one text from his best friend since college to simultaneously break his heart and breathe new life into him, effectively turning his world on its head.Killian is Emma’s rock. The one person she knows that will be there for her time and again. When the break up from hell, and residual fallout, puts her best friend, once again, in the role of caregiver and comforter, Emma can no longer deny the feelings that have been brewing within her ever since college.Can the magic - and questionable mixture of alcohol and pain meds - during the holiday season finally force the confessions they’ve both been suppressing for years?





	1. I'm Falling For You

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by the song of the same name, by Chester See. If you haven't listened to it, I recommend it.  
> I want to thank and give all the love to the lovely ladies that helped me get this fic finished, be it by beta-ing, cheerleading, or the second set of eyes that I don't seem to possess...  
> So, THANK-YOU @Hollyethecurious, @ilovemesomekillianjones, and @kmomof4.  
> Line break indicates change in scene or POV.

* * *

 

All it takes is one text to make Killian’s world stop... one text from his best friend to simultaneously break his heart and breathe new life into him, effectively turning his world on its head.

**_Emma : I need you. Walsh and I broke up. Can you come get me? I'm at Mass General._ **

**_Killian : I'm on my way love, are you alright?_ **

**_Emma : I will be._ **

"Hey Li, I have to go. I'll call you later, yeah?" Killian's slight panic must bleed into his voice because Liam's response on the other side of the line is his concerned papa bear tone.

"Everything okay Kil?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, but Emma's just sent me a text from the hospital, I'm heading there now."

"Oh! Okay, well I'll talk to you later little brother. Go take care of your girl." Liam promptly hangs up, not giving Killian a chance to correct him.

"Younger. And she's not mine, no matter how much I might wish it," he mutters anyway, to no one in particular.

The whole drive to the hospital he is on autopilot, his thoughts lost in a swirl of memories.

_Northeastern University four years ago:_

_Killian was glad to be back on campus after his summer in New York, as much as he loved Liam, his older brother could be a bit much, plus being back meant he’d get to see Emma again. All last year he tried to deny what he felt for her, but as the saying goes,_ absence makes the heart grow fonder _, and fonder was putting it lightly when discussing how head over heels in love he was with his best friend. Killian was planning to tell her just that, as soon as he could make it to her dorm, after dropping off his stuff in his own._

_Knocking excitedly on Emma’s door, Killian was confused when a half naked guy answered the door instead of his Emma._

_“I’m sorry. I guess I have the wrong room, I’m looking for Emma Swan.”_

_“No you got the right room buddy, but she’s kinda busy,” the shirtless guy all but sneered at him with an unimpressed look on his face._

_“Oh!” Embarrassment colored his voice as he turned to leave, tossing out, “Sorry to have bothered you. Can you have Emma text me when she’s unoccupied?”_

_“Sure thing… who are you?” Killian could hear the condescension oozing from every word the guy says._

_“Killian?”_

_At the sound of Emma calling his name, Killian  turned back around. Based on the look Mr. Rude and Pretentious was wearing, he could tell that the guy wasn’t expecting Emma to come to the door, and he wasn’t too thrilled she was calling out his name either. Emma continued on, oblivious to the tension, “Hey. There you are. Where are you going?” As he looked at his best friend, Killian noticed her look of confusion._

_“I was informed you were busy, so I was going to leave you to it.” Killian’s tone was curt and clipped, trying not to let his heartbreak show, which only caused Emma’s confusion to deepen._

_“Busy? No, Neal was just helping me get unpacked. Why don’t you come in.”_

_Killian could see plain as day on Neal’s face, that he didn’t want another man around. “Emma, I don’t think-”_

_“Oh! I’m sorry. You two haven’t met before, have you? Killian, this is Neal. Neal this is my best friend Killian.”_

That day was the beginning of the hopelessly tortured road to the end for him. He’d had to watch from the sidelines as Emma dated Neal ( _controlling, cheating arse_ ), then Graham ( _poor sod was hopelessly in love with their friend Ruby_ ), then August ( _guy found himself a great boyfriend in the hatter’s son_ ), and up until tonight it would seem, Walsh. Walsh had lasted the longest of the four.

They didn’t all end badly, but over the course of four years Killian stood by and watched as each time she would excitedly enter into these relationships, completely unaware of the effect it had on him. When things did go bad, he’d be there to help her pick up the pieces and rebuild, leaving her a little more guarded and her walls a little higher than before. When it went bad, it was _bad_ , and Neal, the bastard, was bad enough for a lifetime.

Little did Killian know that Neal would have nothing on Walsh...

* * *

_Two Hours Earlier:_

_Walsh really outdid himself tonight,_ Emma muses. He’s made a reservation for them at Mama Maria’s for their eight month anniversary. Although Emma suspects this evening to also be his last ditch effort to convince her to go with him to _his_ family’s estate in Connecticut to spend Christmas. He’s been trying to persuade her since before Thanksgiving, after she’d told him she would be spending that particular holiday with her brother, some friends, and their families. Killian’s brother had come into town with his wife Elsa, and they’d all shared a nice intimate holiday with old friends at David and Mary Margaret’s. Since then Walsh has been insisting they spend Christmas with his family, since she’d had Thanksgiving with hers, but she has been steadfastly refusing.

Dinner is a tense affair despite being a _celebration,_ because Walsh keeps going on about the things they must see, or do while they are in Connecticut. Emma’s had enough, and is trying not to snap at Walsh about how she is absolutely not going home with him for Christmas. She’s impatient to get home to a large glass of wine, her favorite pj’s, and the Princess Bride. _Maybe I’ll text Killian to see if he wants to join me after his weekly call to Liam,_ she ponders.

When the server comes around inquiring about dessert, Emma tries to politely pass, but Walsh is insistent that she try the tiramisu because apparently it’s the talk of Boston. Emma sighs agitatedly, acquiescing to the tiramisu.

When the server brings the plate around, Walsh grabs her hand and squeezes as her eyes land on the ring neatly set into the ganache.

“Walsh…” Emma trails off as her brain attempts to grasp what her eyes are seeing.

Walsh must take her stunned expression as a good sign, as he begins his pre-composed speech. “Emma, I know most people wouldn’t consider eight months a very long time, but I believe we know each other well enough. I see no point in wasting any more time. So, marry me, become Mrs. Walsh Osmond.”

“Walsh. I’m sorry. But… no.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I can’t marry you. I didn’t realize you felt this way, but I thought you knew, I’m not ready for marriage, I’m sorry.” Emma pulls her hand free of Walsh’s grasp, then standing from her seat, she pulls on her coat and heads for the door.

Walsh comes bursting through the door just moments after her looking incensed. “How could you do that to me Emma? Do you realize how much of a fool you just made me look? All of those strangers staring at me with pity. We _will_ be getting married, and you _will_ come with me to Connecticut for Christmas, so we can celebrate our engagement with _my_ family.”

“Walsh, I am not some _Stepford Wife_ , at your beck and call, to carry out your every whim. We are _not_ getting married, and I am _not_ going to Connecticut. I mean, we’ve been fighting about Christmas for the last several weeks. In all that time, what made you think I was going to change my mind and decide to go with you?”

“I knew you’d change your mind once we were engaged. My family is expecting us to come together, they’re already planning an engagement party for us that weekend, at the country club.”

“YOU TOLD THEM?! Why did you tell them before you even asked me?”

“Because I knew it was a sure thing.”

“A sure thing?! A SURE THING?! Well, buddy, you got _that_ wrong… now you have to go home with your tail tucked between your legs, and explain to your family how you misled them. Because like I said inside, I’m not marrying you. We are through.”

“Don’t be like that Emma. You know we’ll have a large wedding in the spring, in Connecticut-”

“NO! Just stop right there. Walsh I have told you no, numerous times, we are not getting married, I am not following you to Connecticut. WE. ARE. THROUGH. You are deranged, and I have no idea what I ever saw in you.” Emma turns away from Walsh, planning to put this boy and this night in the rearview. The next thing she knows there is a burning sensation in her shoulder as Walsh jerks her back to him by the crook of her arm.

“Get back here. We are not done.”

Emma struggles against his hold, intensifying the pain in her shoulder. “Let go of me, you lunatic-” Her next words are cut off as Walsh’s fist connects with her face. Thankfully, Walsh lets go of her arm as she falls back from the force of the blow. She stumbles backward until she hits an antique light post, she tries to protect her shoulder from the impact. “You bastard,” she grits out as an intense burning sensation blossoms around her eye.

“Emma, it didn’t have to be like this.” Walsh approaches, fists clenching, looking like he’s going to continue his physical tirade.

Before he has the chance to swing again, Emma thrusts her good elbow upward and catches Walsh’s nose. She knows she has hit her mark when blood starts gushing like Niagara, causing him to stumble back clutching his _broken_ nose.

Moments later the cops and paramedics arrive on the scene, alerted to the situation by concerned patrons watching the scene from inside the restaurant.

* * *

Killian arrives at the hospital having worked himself up into a worried frenzy, but he’s trying to contain himself, for Emma. He parks in the first spot he sees, barely managing to turn the car off before running into the ER to find her.

He is directed through the security doors, toward the nurses station, where he can get more information. As he comes around the corner, he spies David at the end of the hall. As soon as David sees Killian headed towards him, he moves to meet him halfway.

“How is she mate, is she okay? What the bloody hell happened?”

David puts an arm around Killian’s shoulders, with a wary look on his face. “Here, come with me. She’s been treated for a fractured orbital socket, and they had to reset her dislocated shoulder. She’ll be okay. But it’s probably best you hear the whole story from her.” David leads him along the hallway to Emma’s room.

Killian wonders why David came to the hospital, but isn’t in the room with his sister. _Probably on duty and can’t stay too long,_ Killian thinks.

Opening the door he walks into her room; seeing his best friend on the hospital bed looking beaten to hell shatters his heart. Emma has massive bruising around her left eye, a sling protecting her right arm, and is sitting cross legged on the bed with an IV in her right hand. Looking at Emma the rest of the world fades away, and Killian doesn’t even notice as David shuts the door to allow them some privacy.

“Love. What happened?” Killian asks quietly as he makes his way to her side.

“Don’t worry Killian, I’m fine, promise.” She tries to give him a reassuring smile, but he is not fooled.

“Fine?! Darling, you’re always fine. But there is nothing fine about this situation.” He tries for levity, to curb his distress at her current situation. He does not want to tax her any more than she already is.

“If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.” Emma gives him a cheeky grin as she banters back.

“Guy?! What guy? I thought you were in an accident.” As the words leave his mouth he sees the smile slip from Emma’s face as she looks down at her lap.

Without looking up, Emma says, “I’ll tell you everything that happened, but you have to promise me you won’t overreact.”

The weight of her tone leads him to sit at the end of the bed. As she continues to avoid his concerned gaze, Killian reaches out to gently grasp her free hand reassuringly. “Alright Swan, tell me.”

She tells him the whole sordid affair, from the tense dinner, to the proposal, to the brawl in the street. Never once does she look up from their joined hands. He sits in stunned silence, processing everything he’s just been told. The quiet in the room is broken by the nurse coming in with all of Emma’s discharge paperwork, and prescriptions.

“We would like to give you a dose of something stronger to help with the pain, so you can get some sleep tonight. Will there be someone with you?”

Without looking away from Emma, Killian responds before she can say a word, “Aye. She’ll be staying with me tonight.” When Emma looks like she is going to protest, he speaks up a little louder, “Please don’t fight me on this Swan, take the medicine, so you can sleep tonight.”

“If you’d like sir, bring your car around to the entrance, and we’ll wheel her out in a few minutes.”

Killian nods and leaves the room to retrieve his car, while walking down the hall he sees David is still there. Realizing that he is in the exact same spot as before the reason why David wasn’t with Emma hits Killian.

“Son of a bitch!” Killian curses, knowing that David has Walsh in custody. “Bastard is still here.” Killian storms down the hall with a murderous intent for Walsh.

“David, mate.”

“Killian?”

“The bastard is in there isn’t he?”

“Don’t even think about it Killian.”

“Oh, I’ll do more than think about it. Go get a coffee, give me five minutes alone with him.”

“Emma has already pressed charges, we’ll handle Walsh. Right now Emma needs you, and you’ll be no good to her if I have to arrest you, too.”

“Then don’t arrest me.”

“Not gonna happen Jones. Go take care of Emma. If it’s any consolation, she shattered his nose.”

As he is about to retort that it’s still not good enough, he hears Emma’s concerned voice call his name. Deciding the low life isn’t worth it, Killian gives David a nod, then turns on his heel to go catch up to the nurse pushing Emma towards the exit.

The nurse wheels Emma out, and waits on the sidewalk with her as Killian quickly brings his car around. Pulling up right in front of them, Killian puts the car in park, and moves out and around to help Emma get up. By the time he makes it to her side she is half asleep, thanks to the meds, but still cognizant enough to slap his hand away as he tries to help her get up out of the wheelchair. Emma makes it to her feet, but doesn’t even get a step towards the car before she’s falling sideways into Killian’s chest.

“Easy there Swan.”

“I’mng good. Mmm-got it. G’off me.”

Realizing exactly how high she is right now, Killian can’t suppress the chuckle that rumbles up from the depths of his belly. “Whatever you say Swan. As graceful as your namesake you are. Up you go, let’s get you in the car.”

After getting Emma in the passenger seat, Killian has to reach across her to get her buckled in, because she’s already half asleep, _again_. _Whatever they gave her didn’t take long, and I’m glad, she needs her rest after tonight_ , Killian muses. He has to take it slow on the drive home to avoid throwing Emma’s injured shoulder into the door as he’s taking corners.

Finally making it to their apartment building, Killian has to carry Emma up the two flights of stairs to their floor. Maneuvering around her dead weight to unlock the door, Killian finally gets the two of them inside his apartment. Traversing the familiar terrain easily, Killian safely makes it to his bedroom, depositing Emma on the bed as gently as he can manage. As he is getting her tucked in under the covers, Emma burrows her nose into his pillow and inhales deeply. Killian freezes as she mumbles on a breathy exhale, “Mmmm, smells so good, just like Killian.” His heart stutters in his chest at her not quite declaration, thinking that maybe there is hope for him after all.

* * *

_Two Weeks Later:_

Curled up in her corner of the couch, legs tucked up under her, nursing her now lukewarm cup of cocoa, Emma is lost in her thoughts. She recalls her moment of panic less than a week ago, when she realized that she and Killian had been successfully cohabitating in his apartment. Domestic, and perfect, and just _not_ in the cards for her, because she’s in love with her best friend, and he will never see her as anything more. She had to run, she had to protect herself, because if she had stayed at Killian’s another day, she would have ended up doing something to fuck it all up. She couldn’t lose Killian, so before he could push her away, she ran; to protect herself, and her battered heart.

The only reason she’s nursing a mug of cocoa instead of something a little stronger is because she had agitated and inflamed her shoulder. She’d tried to do too much, too soon, just to prove she could, which landed her with another round of pain meds and a stern talking to from her brother, sister-in-law, doctor, Killian, and even Liam (via Skype).

Of course it had been Killian to find her crying on her bathroom floor, unable to put her arm through the sleeve of her robe, because of the intense searing pain. The faint flush of his cheeks when he found her like that had to have been from the residual heat of the shower she’d just left. Always a believer in good form, and gentlemanly behavior, he hadn’t even tried to sneak a peek under her robe as he helped her get her arm into the sleeve.

Since the day she re-injured herself, Killian had been crashing on her couch every night. He’d make his excuses to not have to leave, and to supply her with all manner of coffee, food, and treats. He made sure she had breakfast and dinner daily, and ensured she took her pills before he’d leave to get ready for work. She loved the attention and doting, and the more fanciful part of her brain kept insinuating that it meant more. But she couldn’t listen to that voice, that part was an idiot, and couldn’t be trusted anymore. Emma couldn’t let herself hope; hope was a dangerous thing for someone like her.

Emma is brought out of her musings and self-chastisement by Killian ringing the doorbell. She opens the door to reveal the man of her dreams, also the man who torments her dreams; his hands are full of take out from their, _her,_ favorite Chinese place around the corner. She gladly lets him into her apartment, helping him juggle all of the take out containers.

As he goes to retrieve the silverware and drinks, Emma queues up Princess Bride for them to watch as they eat.

After they’re done eating, Emma finds herself more focused on Killian than her favorite movie, noticing the small things more than she’s ever thought to. There’s nothing new about his arm slung across the back of the couch, his hand absentmindedly playing with one of her curls. Everything appears to be the same, normal even, but her thoughts from earlier, and what could be, keep coming back to the surface, making her inspect and scrutinize everything for deeper meaning.

She’s startled out of another such musing when Killian turns to look at her with a pensive look on his face, she hadn’t even realized the movie had ended.

“Everything alright Swan? You seem to be somewhere else tonight.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m fine, just tired I guess. Everything okay with you?”

“I’m fine Swan. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Or with anyone else.” Killian gives her a sweet smile, the smile she recognizes as _her_ smile, before a slightly anxious look passes across his features, “Actually, there is something I need to talk to you about.”

“I find whenever a guy says that, I’m rarely in for a pleasant conversation.”

Smothering his chuckle, Killian sobers once more, “Nothing bad, I promise. I just wanted to let you know that I’m not going to be able to bring you dinner tomorrow, you’ll have to fend for yourself. I am finalizing those contracts that I’ve been working on with that big client tomorrow, and then it’s expected that I take her to dinner afterwards.”

“Big client? You mean Tink? From Pixie Dust Development? The handsy one?”

“Handsy? What are you talking about, Swan? But, yeah, if I land this contract, it will put Jones Bros Designs in the black for years to come.”

“You know what, nevermind. I hope that the deal works out well for your company. Come on, it’s late, and you have to get up for work in the morning, we should really get to bed.”

“Absolutely, love. Your bed or mine?” he teases. His over the top flirtatiousness usually draws a laugh, or at the very least a good natured eye roll, but her traitorous thoughts from earlier choose that moment to come back to the forefront, making her wonder, _what if?_ When she doesn’t respond with anything but a tense silence, Killian asks, “Are you sure you’re okay Swan?”

“What? Oh… yeah sorry, like I said, just tired.” Emma vacates the couch so Killian can lay down, _since the man refuses to sleep in his apartment lately._ She hurries off down the hallway to her room, listening to Killian settle onto her couch for the night. She also hears his tossed out reminder to take her pain pills just before she shuts the bedroom door behind her.

* * *

Emma has a fantastic boss, and her dream job, but unfortunately because of her bastard ex she is on administrative leave through Christmas. She can’t properly do her job until she is fully healed.

Most people would think that being a social worker would be a less than desirable job, but for Emma it is her way to give back to the kids like her. Orphans. As soon as Christmas is over, because of all the foster families that wait until the holiday has passed to send the kids back, she knows that she will be busier than ever, which just isn’t right.

So she really should enjoy the quiet that she’s got now, but she can’t stop herself from thinking about Killian alone with Tink. Every scenario she comes up with is worse than the last. Finally, unable to stand the thoughts any longer, she goes in search of that half full bottle of rum that she knows is hiding in her kitchen somewhere. Prescription warning labels be damned.

The bottle of rum, now empty, sits on her coffee table. Emma can’t keep herself from wondering if Killian had accompanied Tink home. With a set purpose, she gets up from her couch on wobbly legs, and makes her way back to her room. She is a woman on a drunken mission.

* * *

Killian is glad to finally be home, excited, elated even, at having secured a massive multi-million dollar contract for his and Liam’s architecture firm. Tink had been a little more aggressive than anticipated, after she’d had a few drinks at dinner. Luckily they had all of the paperwork signed and completed before they had gone out; she had looked a bit perturbed when he’d rebuffed her advances.

Kicking his front door closed behind him, Killian contemplates making his way over to check on Emma after taking his shower. Weighing his options, he realizes that it might be nice to actually sleep in his bed for the first time since she got hurt. As he is contemplating that luxury, Killian makes it through his bedroom door, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight before him. _Emma Swan. Naked. Passed out, on my bed. Naked. I’d recognize that drunk hicca-snore anywhere. Naked. Why is she naked, in my bed? This is my bed, aye?_ Doubting that he’s actually come into his own apartment, since he’s so used to being in hers lately, Killian goes back out into the hall to double check the number printed on his door. _It is._

Making his way back inside the apartment, and ensuring the door is secured behind him, Killian makes his way to the linen closet to get a blanket for Emma. He knows he won’t be getting any answers tonight as Emma sleeps solidly through his attempts to cover her completely. He affords her the softest and warmest comforter he owns, so as to ensure that her supple backside won’t be subjected to the cool night air; and to protect her modesty should she turn over at some point while she sleeps.

Having resigned himself to another night on the couch, _at least it's comfortable,_ Killian proceeds with his plan of taking a shower, and if he should have the need to relieve some tension that had stirred to life at the sight of Emma’s delectable assets, none need be the wiser.

* * *

She wakes to the sunlight streaming onto her face, wondering, _why in sam hell is my blackout curtain not working?_ Starting to take inventory of herself and her surroundings, Emma comes to several conclusions rather quickly. _Oh shit! This isn’t my bed. Why am I naked? Damn my head hurts like a son of a bitch, what the hell happened last night?_

As she thinks back to the night before, she tries to mentally retrace her steps. Emma remembers having worked herself up into such a state of agitation thinking about Killian and Tink together, that she drank every last drop of rum left in the bottle. The last memory she has is getting up off of her couch with determination. _What the hell was I so determined to do?_ Everything after that is fuzzy.

 _How did I get to Killian’s apartment? The key, that’s right, he gave me his spare key…_ Taking stock of her current lack of clothing, _surely I must have taken them off before getting in his bed, right?_ Looking around the room, there are no clothes scattered on the floor. _I didn’t? I wouldn’t. Did I really walk across the hall naked and break in to my best friend’s apartment, and pass out on his bed? Was he home? How much of me did he see? How did he react? Fuck! How awkward is this going to be?_ Deciding there is nothing for it, she gets out of his bed to face the music, before he comes to confront her.

Making sure the coast is clear, Emma dashes for Killian’s closet to find something to cover herself with. Picking her favorite hoodie of his and a really soft pair of boxers, she heads out in search of Killian, only to find him in the kitchen. His back is to her as he works at the stove, making what smells like… pancakes? _He’s making me pancakes?_

“So wanna tell me why you were passed out in my bed, love?” He turns his head just enough so she can see that damnable quirked brow of his, “Not that I’m complaining about coming home to a beautiful woman in my bed… I’d thought Christmas had come early.”

“Yeah… sorry about that… I was upset,” Emma mumbles as she avoids Killian’s gaze, afraid of what she might find.

“Upset? What were you upset about?” Killian sounds genuinely concerned, but she still refuses to look at him.

“Nothing, I was just upset, and got drunk, and I think it reacted funny with my medication.”

“Swan. You _know_ you’re not supposed to drink with your medication.”

“Nevermind, you know what, just forget about it. I’ll just leave you alone. Sorry for bothering you.” As she turns to leave, she feels Killian's hand gently wrap around her uninjured elbow, turning her to face him.

“Emma, love, stop. What is going on?”

 _Well hell! Way to ruin things Emma, way to ruin everything, like always. He knows something is up, he actually_ is _quite perceptive. Honestly this may be my last chance to say something, I may have already lost him, and I can’t let him go, without at least telling him._

Emma brings her panic filled eyes to meet Killian’s concerned gaze as she solidifies her resolve. _Now or never Emma_ , “I’m in love with you. That’s what, and I don’t know how to deal with it, along with the fact that you don’t see me as anything more than a friend.” Her voice starts out strong, but as she reaches the end, it is quiet as a whisper, and cracking as she struggles to contain her turbulent emotions.

“Now where did you get an idea like that?”

“Like what?”

“That I don’t see you as anything more than a friend.”

“You’ve never said anything.”

“When would I have had the chance? The timing was never right.”

“Oh.”

“Emma, I have loved you for so long, I can’t remember what it’s like not to love you. So, to clear up any possible confusion. Emma Swan, I love you.”

* * *

In lieu of a response to his declaration, Emma is on him. Her lips are sealed to his in a passionate kiss that he’d never even let himself dare to hope for. Apparently, she was going for action rather than words, but she had already said those five fateful words, and he’d thought his heart was going to burst when she had.

 _If we’re going the route of action then_. He picks her up and though she startles to the point of exclaiming his name in an octave higher than normal, her legs wrap around his hips of their own volition.

“Do you realize how mad you drove me?” he murmured against her lips, not wanting to pull away any further than that, now that he’s been granted the pleasure of her kiss. Killian is relying fully on muscle memory to guide them back down the hall to his bedroom. “Seeing you naked on my bed, unable to touch you. And this morning, seeing you in nothing but my clothing, a man can only take so much temptation.” He presses the evidence of her torments against her as he pins her against his bedroom door.

“You’re not the only one that’s been tempted Jones.” Emma veritably moans as he grinds against her again.

“What say you, to us re-examining your outfit from last night?”

“But I wasn’t wearing anything last night.”

“Exactly.” With Emma’s giggle, Killian finishes the trek to his bed. As things are ramping up, kisses more heated, touches roaming over every expanse, a disheartening realization comes to him. “Swan, wait… wait, wait. I don't have any condoms. I wasn't expecting-”

“It's ok Killian… I'm covered. I'm clean, and _protected_.”

“Aye?”

Emma nods bashfully at his enquiry.

“I’m clean as well, so _if_ you’re still willing.”

“Yes, I’m willing, now get a move on Jones. I’m tired of waiting.” At the vehemence in Emma’s voice, Killian leans up off of her to remove his shirt. He notes the look on her face as his shirt clears his head, and soars across the room.

“See something you like, love?” he asks with a smirk playing on his lips. It takes her a moment to peel her eyes away from his toned chest to meet his gaze.

“Yeah.” Her voice is much breathier than normal, which causes his smirk to widen.

He helps divest her of his hoodie, and is unable to stay his thoughts “You are an absolute vision my love.” One of his new favorite things _has_ to be the blush that creeps across Emma’s chest and face at his words of praise.

With a roll of her eyes, she deflects by saying, “Whatever you say, Romeo.”

Willing to let it be, and get back to the more urgent matter at hand, Killian gives her another kiss before pulling back, and nudging her hips so he can help her shimmy out of his boxers. When she’s completely bare he leans back up and showers Emma in kisses. He starts with her pouting lips, then works his way down her jaw, and all along the length of her neck, intent on showering every inch of her body with his affection.

“Killian-”

He can’t help but smile at the way Emma whines out his name in frustration.

Pausing his trail of kisses long enough to look up into her emerald eyes, with pupils blown wide, he asks, “Yes, my love?”

“You are still far too overdressed.”

“All in good time my love, I plan on taking my time, and taking care of you the way you deserve. I’ve been dreaming about this for far _too_ long to rush any of it. Ladies first, _then_ I will take you; I promise.”

“W-Wait… you’ve dreamt of this?”

Killian chuckles wickedly. “Of course I have. You are quite entrancing.”

Killian rests his chin just above her delectable quim, glancing up, he catches her eye. He wants to make sure she is alright with this, not wanting to cross a line, and risk pushing her too far too fast; the thought of pushing her away is unbearable. When Emma smiles reassuringly, he closes the distance, licking a line with the flat of his tongue from slit to clit, eliciting a moan from both of them.

“My love, you taste divine, I’ll never get enough of you,” he murmurs into her core, not wanting to stop for even a second.

Emma wiggles and jumps with the sensations of his attentions causing him to place his left hand across her belly to keep her still. Alternating between long licks, penetrating her with his tongue, and sucking on her bundle of nerves, he’s quickly driving her to the edge of pleasure. As she gets closer he uses his mouth to focus his ardor on her clit while guiding his fingers in and out of her to work her to completion.

Emma comes with a cry of his name on her lips, and he swears he’s never heard a sweeter sound.

“Still with me love?”

She hums out a pleasured sound of affirmation as he hops back off of the bed and shucks his pants. Killian then lies down beside her, playing with her hair, until she opens her eyes to look at him.

Bringing himself above her, once she has recovered, Killian’s right hand trails down her side from her pert breast to her hip, anchoring himself to her there. He slowly runs his silken steel shaft through her drenched folds, savoring the wetness as he coats himself in her essence. After teasing the both of them a few moments more he delicately pushes his throbbing cock into her tight sheath inch by delicious inch until he is completely buried in her to the hilt. Pausing to give them both a moment to adjust, he leans forward to capture her lips in a kiss to trump all kisses. He keeps his pace steady, trying not to thrust too hard, wanting to make it memorable for both of them.

Feeling his release building quicker than he’d like, he reaches down to caress her clit and whispers to her, “Come again for me Emma, I want you to come _with_ me.” As he circles her clit faster, he feels the enticing flutter of her walls signaling her orgasm.

“Killian. Right there. I’m … I’m … OH GOD!”

“Let go Emma, I’ll catch you. Come for me.” Watching as Emma falls so beautifully over the edge, he lets her take him with her. Killian murmurs her name lovingly as he spills his release inside her.

“That’s it love, that’s it.” He relaxes above her, momentarily forgetting he is putting all of his weight on her. Regaining his senses, he rolls off of her and pulls Emma to her side so they can lie facing each other to catch their breaths.

“I hope I’ve not worn you out, love. I am nowhere near finished with you yet,” he growls into her ear.

They both lose track of the hours, too wrapped up in the feel of one another to care, they spend the rest of the day in Killian’s bed.

* * *

Waking from, probably the best sleep she’s ever experienced, laying snuggled into a still sleeping Killian, Emma thinks back on the perfect _and_ pleasurable day before. Emma finds herself wanting Killian, _again_.

She takes advantage of his slumber to peruse every facet of his beautiful body. Her hand starts at his cheek before skimming along his chiseled jawline. She moves to his neck, and leans down to place a gentle kiss in the hollow of his throat, then continues with both hands now, to smooth along his toned chest. She loves his thatch of chest hair as it rubs against her palms, and even more when it grazes her hardened nipples.  

He truly is a work of art, and she wonders if he’d be upset if she tasted him. She’s wanted to take him with her mouth since she’d seen him bobbing hard and proud against his stomach. Deciding she is going to treat him, Emma delicately shimmies her body down his, so as not to wake him before she wants him to.

Once she is level with his already hardened member, she licks her lips in anticipation; gently taking his generous length in hand, she extends her tongue to lick a stripe from base to tip. Killian shifts in his sleep at this, but does not wake, emboldened by her desire she opens her mouth to take him in fully. Unable to stifle the moan that crawls up her throat at the sensation of him in her mouth, Emma begins to steadily bob up and down along his length. She feels the ache in her core and knows she is wet, but this is about Killian, and his pleasure, not hers.

By the time Killian starts to stir from the sensations she’s lavishing on him, she can feel the wetness pooling and dripping down her thighs. The sound Killian makes is a mix between a moan and grunt. His hand reaches out reflexively tangling in her hair as she continues to work him over with her mouth. Voice still heavy with sleep, Killian finally speaks up, “Emma…” His voice trails off as another moan escapes his throat, and he gives a slight tug on the hair in his grip. “Love stop, or this will all be over too quickly. I’ve no wish to leave you unsatisfied.” At that Emma picks up her pace, intending to make him fall apart for her, just as she had fallen for him the day before. Any further protestations from Killian are staved off by another moan torn from his throat as he begins to spill himself down her throat. Emma tastes his release and swallows down every last drop before releasing him with a soft _pop._ She grins up at his sated smile like the cat that ate the canary.

After a few moments of quiet, with nothing but Killian’s labored breathing to be heard, Emma shimmies back to her place, snuggled into his side. “Well. Swan, wow. Christmas really did come early. But have no doubt, I will get you back for that.”

“I look forward to it. Best Christmas ever.” Emma hums out as she snuggles into Killian’s chest.

_~ Fin ~_


	2. Walsh's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the disastrous date/proposal, and just desserts from Walsh's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **WARNING**  
> **This addition is NOT Captain Swan...**  
> This is going to be a Walsh-centric one-off, (Because Kmomof4 just HAD to have it).  
> If this is not your cup of tea I completely understand... so feel free to skip it. :) I wrote this at Kmomof4's behest (so you can blame her).   
> You can blame my bastard of an ex for Walsh's characteristics.

_Tonight will be perfect. I’ve used my connections to get us a reservation at Mama Maria’s, because anybody who’s anybody_ must _go to Mama Maria’s when they get engaged. Emma’s going to be so excited once she sees the ring I’ve picked out for her. I just know she’s going to love it._

_Once we’re engaged she’ll finally move out of that dump of an apartment, in with me, and away from that guy, what’s his name? … Kevin? Kyle? No, that’s not it, starts with a K though. I’ve never trusted him, I see the way he looks at_ my _Emma._

Walsh insisted on picking Emma up tonight, because he knows that she will be coming home with him to celebrate their engagement, and he doesn’t want the hassle of having to figure out what to do with her bug after dinner.

_Emma looks absolutely stunning tonight_.

He’d had to take a moment to compose himself before she’d gotten into his car, he can tell that she put in extra effort on her appearance tonight. _Probably sensing the importance of the evening._ He’s kept tonight’s destination a secret, despite Emma repeatedly telling him time and again how much she doesn’t care for surprises. He knows that’s just a platitude, her way of letting him know he doesn’t have to go out of his way to surprise her. As he drives them to the restaurant, Walsh regales her with tales from work, and the goings on of the prominent people of Boston that he rubs elbows with, on the daily.

He is as proud as a peacock as he escorts Emma through the restaurant. He can feel the eyes of several men in the room taking in the beautiful woman on his arm, even noting a few going so far as to actually turn their heads to follow them to their table. All of the attention being paid to _his_ woman only strokes his ego further.

Pushing in Emma’s chair after she’s seated, Walsh leans over to whisper in her ear, “All these men staring at you makes me want to take you right here; so they all know you’re _mine_ .” Emma stiffens at his words, so he decides to brush his lips against the shell of her ear before moving to his seat. _Probably wants me just as much as I want her,_ he muses.

Taking his seat across from her, Walsh continues along with the monologue that he began when he picked her up earlier. “I'm so glad I was able to get the reservation tonight darling. It’s nigh impossible to get in here, if you don’t know somebody. But luckily _I_ do. Zelena is dating the general manager and was able to pull some strings to get us in, otherwise, we’d be on the waiting list to get in here for months yet.”

As their waiter approaches the table, Walsh looks down his nose at the man, not bothering to look at him directly as he speaks, voice dripping condescension, “Bring us a bottle of the ‘06 Amarone, Dal Forno, Romano, Veneto. We’re celebrating our 8 month anniversary,” before the poor man can even get a word in edgewise. Walsh dismisses the guy with a wave of his hand and turns his attention back to Emma.

“Right away sir,” the waiter replies as he withdraws.

“You look so beautiful tonight Emma, have I mentioned that yet? I can’t wait for Christmas when you’ll _finally_ get to meet _my_ family in Connecticut.” Emma’s brow furrows at his statement, _poor girl is probably afraid they won’t like her_. Walsh reaches out for her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze, while bestowing her with a reassuring smile.

When their waiter _finally_ returns with the bottle he requested, Walsh wastes no time at all in ordering his favorite, Osso Buco, for himself, and the Mozzarella and Warm Tomatoes, for Emma. _She will have to watch her weight, if she wants to fit into my mother’s wedding dress._

The rest of dinner passes in a similar fashion, with Walsh carrying on almost exclusively about what they will see and do when they spend Christmas in Connecticut with his family. Periodically he notices a strained look cross Emma’s beautiful features, causing him to wonder if her nerves are truly _that_ rattled by the prospect of meeting his parents. As if he’d ever date someone _that_ lowbrow. So, as his way of assuaging her fears, he presses on even more determined to map out every detail, sans engagement related, that they’ll do while in Connecticut.

His big moment has come. The waiter has finally come around, inquiring about dessert. He is a little disheartened when Emma replies, “No thank you, I’m afraid I’m not feeling dessert tonight.” Walsh hears her words, as he notices that she has already laid her napkin down on her plate and has begun to rise from her chair.

Walsh laughs as he interjects, waving her to retake her seat while ignoring her protestations, “Oh no Emma! You must try the tiramisu. It’s the talk of Boston!”

Emma sighs almost agitatedly, _as if she could be anything but happy in my presence,_ he reassures himself, she _does_ acquiesce to the tiramisu afterall.

When he sees the server bringing the plate around to Emma, Walsh grabs her hand and squeezes as her eyes land on the ring set neatly into the ganache.

“Walsh…” Emma trails off, unable to take her eyes off of the ring, _I knew she’d love it,_ he thinks triumphantly.

“Emma, I know most people wouldn’t consider eight months to be a very long time, but I believe we know each other well enough. I see no point in wasting any more time. So, marry me, become Mrs. Walsh Osmond.”

“Walsh. I’m sorry. But… no.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I can’t marry you. I didn’t realize you felt this way, but I thought you knew, I’m not ready for marriage, I’m sorry.” Emma pulls her hand free of his grasp, then standing from her seat, she pulls on her coat and heads for the door. Walsh is left at the table, in a room full of strangers, staring at him, mocking him. He can see the laughter, and pity in their eyes.

Unable to take it any longer, he snatches the ring out of the ganache, quickly wiping it off on a napkin, before stuffing it in his pocket. Angrily snatching his wallet from his pocket, Walsh slams down a handful of bills on the table, not caring if there’s enough to cover their meal and a tip, or not. Quickly stuffing his wallet back into his pocket, Walsh snatches his jacket from the back of his chair, beating a determined path towards the door, and away from all of the prying eyes.

He will make Emma answer for her abhorrent behavior.

Walsh bursts through the door just moments after Emma, absolutely incensed. Making strides towards her, he can’t help but raise his voice at her, as his temper flares.

“How could you do that to me Emma? Do you realize how much of a fool you just made me look? All of those strangers staring at me with pity. We _will_ be getting married, and you _will_ come with me to Connecticut for Christmas, so we can celebrate our engagement with _my_ family.”

“Walsh, I am not some _Stepford Wife_ , at your beck and call, to carry out your every whim. We are _not_ getting married, and I am _not_ going to Connecticut. I mean, we’ve been fighting about Christmas for the last several weeks. In all that time, what made you think I was going to change my mind and decide to go with you?”

“I knew you’d change your mind once we were engaged. My family is expecting us to come together, they’re already planning an engagement party for us that weekend, at the country club.”

“YOU TOLD THEM?! Why did you tell them before you even asked me?”

Stating as though it was absolutely obvious to anyone with half a brain, “Because I knew it was a sure thing.”

“A sure thing?! A SURE THING?! Well, buddy, you got _that_ wrong… now you have to go home with your tail tucked between your legs, and explain to your family how you misled them. Because like I said inside, I’m not marrying you. We are through.”

“Don’t be like that Emma. You know we’ll have a large wedding in the spring, in Connecticut-”

“NO! Just stop right there. Walsh I have told you no, numerous times, we are not getting married, I am not following you to Connecticut. WE. ARE. THROUGH. You are deranged, and I have no idea what I ever saw in you.” Emma turns her back to him, and he sees red.

Without conscious thought of what he’s doing, just letting his rage run the show now, Walsh’s hand snaps out grabbing Emma by the crook of her arm. “Get back here. We are not done.”

Emma struggles against his hold, intensifying his rage.

“Let go of me, you lunatic-” Her next words are cut off as his fist connects with her face. Surfacing from his turbulent fury, he realizes what he’s just done. Walsh lets go of her arm as she falls back from the force of the blow. She stumbles backward until she hits an antique light post. He can tell that she is trying to shield her shoulder from the impact.

She grits out a venomous, “You bastard,” the pain obvious in her voice.

“Emma, it didn’t have to be like this.” Walsh approaches her, fists still clenching and unclenching, as he tries to come down from the adrenaline high of his tirade.

Before he can do anything else, Emma thrusts her good elbow upward and catches him in the nose. He doesn’t even have a chance to register the sheer pain of his shattered nose, before the blood starts gushing like Niagara. It's all he can do to clutch his nose as he stumbles back from her.

Moments later the cops and paramedics arrive on the scene, alerted to the situation by concerned patrons watching the scene from inside the restaurant.

Arriving at the hospital in a separate ambulance from Emma, Walsh is immediately manhandled into a small cramped room that barely has room for the bed, with bars on the window of the door. Before the doctor has even decided to grace him with his presence, the door to his room opens, and none other than Emma’s adoptive brother walks in. _Shit!_

“Walsh Osmond, I am here to place you under arrest.”

_Fuck!_ “What for?” Walsh sneers, trying to maintain his air of indifference, in light of that revelation.

“For starters, not paying your full dinner tab, you shorted the restaurant $500, so that is grand larceny. You also committed felony assault and battery, against _my_ sister.”

“You have got to be kidding me. Seriously?! That bitch is pressing charges? We wouldn’t even be in this situation if she would just listen.”

“Nope. Not kidding one bit. Oh, and _that_ _bitch_ , as you so eloquently put it, is my little sister, and believe me, you’re getting off easy by being arrested.” Walsh notices a subtle shift in David’s stance as he approaches him, as he proceeds to mirandize him. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense.” 

“Oh don’t worry yourself about me _officer_ , I’ll have the best attorney in the Northeast working my defense. I won’t spend a single day in jail.” Walsh sneers at David.

“We’ll see about that, now, right arm against the rail _please_.” With the biggest grin Walsh has ever seen on the man’s face, David slaps the cuff on his wrist anchoring him to the bed rail. Job completed, David turns on his heel, leaving Walsh by himself, handcuffed to a hospital gurney, with a shattered nose.

 

* * *

 

_Six Months Later:_

“All rise, the Honorable Judge Mills presiding.” _Honorable, my ass._

“You may all be seated.” With a nod to all in the courtroom the judge seats herself behind the bench, “Will the defendant please rise?”

Walsh and his smooth talking, overpriced, _good-for-nothing_ attorney, Robert Gold stand to hear his fate. Out of the corner of his eye, Walsh sees Emma sitting on the bench between David and _Killian_ . He had finally remembered the bastard’s name, _after_ he had stolen his girlfriend from him. _Is that whore wearing an engagement ring?_ Walsh seethed, before turning his attention back to the judge before him.

“Mr. Walsh Osmond, you stand before this court, convicted of felony assault and battery in the first degree, and grand larceny. You have been found guilty of your crimes, by a jury of your peers. Is there anything you wish to say before the sentence of law is imposed upon you?”

“No your honor.”

“Very well, you are to be sentenced to ten years in the state penitentiary, without the possibility of parole. You are remanded into the custody of the Department of Corrections. Court is adjourned.” The judge bangs her gavel, announcing the conclusion of the day’s proceedings.

_~Fin~_


End file.
